


Could/Should/Actually Ask Box

by jacksgreysays (jacksgreyson), jacksgreyson



Series: Tumblr Ask Box Events [7]
Category: Dreaming of Sunshine - Silver Queen, Naruto, Original Work, Star Wars - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Crimes & Criminals, Dimension Travel, F/F, Gen, Light Angst, Multi, Original Character Replaces Mineta Minoru, Rebuilt Uzushiogakure | Hidden Eddy Village, Spies & Secret Agents, Superheroes, The Force, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Uzushiogakure | Hidden Eddy Village
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28125498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreysays, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreyson
Summary: (originally posted on tumblr)
Relationships: Kurogiri (My Hero Academia) & Nara Shikako, Nara Shikako & Nara Shikamaru, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Tumblr Ask Box Events [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/763896
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	1. Three Possible Twelve Sessions

**Author's Note:**

> related to [Twelve Sessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365425/chapters/25547928)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous: Could Have/Should Have/Actually Happened format as a prompt for Twelve Sessions

**_it could have gone like this:_ **

Joy’s ankle itches.

“I understand you’re unlikely to be in a cooperative mood, but I hope over these next twelve weeks that we can find a way to work together in a way that benefits you…” says Simone Tallis, the court ordered therapist assigned to her. Joy knows Judge Palmer wanted to be harsher–some jail time at least–but given how Joy was finally caught, the city doesn’t exactly have the leeway to be as strict as they’d like on notorious burglar, sometimes vigilante Jaguar.

She should have run when things went bad. Before they went bad. She should never have joined the team at all.

Or she should have thrown herself into it whole heartedly, the way Curtis and Brian and Alvin and Lea–

Her ankle itches.

Heroics on behalf of the city is as literal an interpretation of community service as can be. And twelve hours of talking to a stranger isn’t all that difficult, though she’s not really feeling up to being charming right now.

But her goddamn ankle fucking itches.

She could do without the hideous blinking accessory tracking her every move.

“… you’re not even fucking listening to me, are you?”

The swear catches her attention, but Joy doesn’t blink. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but if you want some fucking dialogue there’s no need to resort to crude language,” Joy responds without a hitch, baring her teeth.

That’s the way Leanne would phrase it. Even though Alvin’s the shapeshifter, Joy was the one who bared her teeth at threats.

Simone Tallis isn’t a threat in the traditional sense of the word. Nor in the excitingly new, nontraditional sense that Joy has become used to as Jaguar. But while Joy has lost her anonymity and freedom and most of her team, she hasn’t lost all of her secrets.

And she certainly hasn’t lost her will to fight either.

“Well now,” Simon Tallis says, considering, “I suppose we’ll get along just fine.”

* * *

**_it should have gone like this:_ **

Brian is sitting in the waiting room, intermittently squeezing a neon pink stress ball. He has reduced strength and control in his left hand. Already his muscles are starting to feel sore, but he persists for a few more squeezes before letting them rest.

He huffs, annoyed. Then, annoyed at his annoyance, sighs.

It could have been worse, is the thing. He knows how lucky he was to be able to walk away with relatively minor damage. He knows he could have lost the entire arm, or worse. He knows how close every attack was, how nearly lethal they were. His body sustained so much of its own damage that even with his ability it’ll be months before he’ll be field ready.

Which makes the twelve weeks of mandated therapy pretty convenient, actually. Better to do it now while he’s focusing on healing physically, to also heal mentally.

The soft chime he has for an alarm goes off, signaling it’s time for his session, but he stays seated for a few moments longer. The previous patient does not appear in the waiting room, but Brian makes his way to Simone’s office anyway.

He barely raises his right hand to knock on the door when it opens. Simone smiles to see him, gives a low hum as she nods her head to a corner of her office.

Leanne sits on the floor, thumb flicking over the links of her pocket watch’s chain, as soothing and rhythmic and near meditative as prayer beads. Around her–almost completely so, the size of his wolf form massive, curled and supportive like a living, snoring, couch–is Alvin.

“Hey,” Brian says, “I thought group therapy was Friday.”

Leanne’s eyes flit over to him, her thumb pausing in its movement before she puts her pocket watch away. Instead, she reaches a hand out and pets the space between Alvin’s pointed ears. Or, rather, one pointed ear and the scraggly bit of newly healed cartilage that is the other.

“I was still here when Alvin arrived for his appointment. He needed to sleep–apparently trying to raise three young shape-shifters isn’t conducive to rest–and it’s not like I need to be anywhere else,” Leanne explains. “And it’s not like Tallis minds.”

“It lets me catch up on paperwork,” Simone agrees mildly.

Unspoken and unnecessary to be spoken is the fact that Alvin can’t sleep without listening to the heartbeat of at least one of his teammates. Not since the incident that nearly cost them too much.

Leanne pats the furry flank beside her. “There’s plenty of room if you want to join the cuddling,” she says. Then, she tilts her head to the door, silently asking if he wants her to wake Alvin up so they can leave and give Brian his privacy.

“Or we could go to the diner,” Simone suggests, “I don’t know about you, but I could always go for some pancakes.” Another option so he won’t feel guilty about waking Alvin up, but he can still speak to Simone without his teammates listening.

Brian considers them.

“How about Simone and I go get some food to bring back? We could also get something for Curtis, too, since he’s next anyway.” There, a compromise, one that has them all sharing smiles.

Not bad for a boy called Griever.

* * *

**_but it actually went like this:_ **

“They were my family,” Curtis says like its ripped out of him. He’s holding his face in his hands, eyes squeezed shut. He can’t bear to look at Simone’s own face, don’t know what expression she would have, don’t know what he’s dreading to see.

He’s breathing heavily as if he’s run the entire perimeter of the city when all he’s done is sit here and talk about his feelings.

“I don’t know if I can do this without them.”


	2. Shikano Nara and the Nara Twins Meet Through Time Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donapoetrypassion: DOS, Shikano Nara & Nara Twins, time travel
> 
> Shikano Nara is the Shikaku's father, aka the Nara twins' paternal grandfather

**_it could have gone like this:_ **

Shikano comes home after a somehow simultaneously mind-numbing yet also frustrating day of making sure Hiruzen and Danzo don’t drive Konoha into war, bankruptcy, or other disaster only to find that his oldest son has somehow multiplied.

He sighs. He looks to the heavens. He resists the urge to pinch at the bridge of his nose, to drive away the stress headache that had already been building throughout the day.

He is, of course, proud that Shikaku is clever and innovative–such a thing will prove useful when he becomes clan head–but the boy is attracted to the most dangerous of ideas and more often than not Shikano has had to get Kasuga to fish him out of the black.

“… son, I know we’re the clan of shadows, but I’ve already told you that the kage bunshin is beyond our purview.” Shikano is Chief Tactician, Jounin Commander. He knows all the horror stories of shinobi trying jutsu beyond their means and burning from the inside out, guttering their Will of Fire far too soon.

It’s not a perfect kage bunshin, missing an arm, but it looks alarming solid and alive.

One of them, the real one, turns to the other and smirks. The other, the clone, looks away and sighs.

“We don’t look that similar,” says the clone, bewilderingly enough.

Shikaku redirects his pleased smirk to Shikano. “This isn’t a kage bunshin, Father,” he says, even more bewilderingly.

A third teenager, thankfully not a clone of Shikano’s oldest son, enters the room while consulting a sheaf of papers. She’s not someone Shikano recognizes which is only alarming considering she’s wearing the Nara clan mon and he should know every clan member on sight.

“I think I might have figured it out,” the girl says, pulling a pencil out of thin air and making a mark on the papers in her hand, “But it’ll probably require additional–oh, hello.”

Shikano narrows his eyes at the stranger, before glancing over at his son and the non-clone by his side.

“Son, an explanation would be appreciated.”

The three teenagers exchange silent looks. Unsubtle, silent looks.

“Uh, yeah,” his son stammers, the other two raising matching eyebrows with skepticism. “Father this is Shikamaru and Shikako, uh, well, Nara.”

Shikano gives in to the urge to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

* * *

**_it should have gone like this:_ **

Shikano comes home after being handed a headband and a report with so much blacked out that all that is visible is his youngest son’s name. Redacted reports. For him? Konoha’s Chief Tactician? The Jounin Commander?

He seethes. Who do Hiruzen and Danzo think he is? Some fragile civilian who doesn’t know the weight of war grinding at his bones? A fool who doesn’t know the scent of poor cover up of a truly heinous SNAFU?

Shikano as a father will mourn his son. Shikano as a clan head will mourn his heir. But the Shikano that has for decades served this village–this Hokage, whatever sick and twisted dynamic he has with his councilors–will never trust the administration that has betrayed him. He understands war. He understands loss. He understands, begrudgingly, acceptable losses. He will never understand the deliberate obfuscation of the truth, of intel that would prevent such a tragedy–such a waste–from ever happening again.

Shikano comes home, heart heavy, mind churning, dreading having to explain to his wife the loss of their second son, having to explain to his clan the loss of their heir.

Shikano comes home and before he can reach for the door to his own house, it opens. The girl who opens the door is pretty, but not beautiful. Unremarkable and almost unrecognizable, except for how she cost him one heir and to see her now, on this day, after he has lost another in a far more permanent way cannot be borne.

“What are you doing here?” Shikano snarls and the small smile that was on the girl’s face drops immediately, exchanged for a confused, startled fear.

“I-I,” the girl stutters while stepping back, away from him but further into the house.

“How dare you come here!”

Shikano, objectively, knows that he is not being fair. He is taking his anger and heartache out on this wide-eyed girl who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he is still a man, for all that he is known for his logic and unbiased reasoning, and he makes mistakes.

“I–”

“Leave her alone,” a boy says, joining them in the entrance of the house, standing between them as if Shikano were the intruder here. For a moment, Shikano is swept away by deja vu. This is not Ikoma, no, but Shikaku–younger, impossibly so. It is a jarring thought, enough so to clear away the frenzied rage and realize that the girl also is far too young to be the one Shikaku left the clan for.

“Who are you?” Shikano asks, too late to be met with anything but distrust and apprehension from the teenagers in front of him. They exchange glances between each other and stonily stay silent.

“Father?” a familiar voice says and for a moment, Shikano wonders if perhaps this is a dream: imperfect reflections of his oldest son and the near civilian that stole him away, and now the voice of his fallen son.

But reality asserts himself. This is not a dream, miraculously enough. That is indeed Ikoma standing whole and mostly unharmed before him.

“My son,” Shikano says, barely holding back his tears, swallowing down a relieved sob. He reaches out, clapping a hand on Ikoma’s shoulder, feeling the warmth and the strength, alive.

Ikoma indulges him–perhaps he has an idea of what news he received, never mind how obviously incorrect it may be–before stepping away, back towards the dining room, where Shikano’s wife already sits. The two silent teenagers edge around him, as if afraid to get too close, before taking seats in front of partially eaten snacks and half empty cups of tea.

Ikoma takes a seat of his own and gestures for Shikano to do the same. He does so, almost stupefied, gravity doing most of the work.

“Father, this is Kako and Kamaru,” he says, gesturing to the teenagers. They do not give Shikano another glance. “They were the ones who extracted me from my mission and brought me here unnoticed. My teammates were the ones who–” Ikoma stops as if he cannot bear to continue.

“There is something wrong in Konoha,” the girl, Kako, says in an almost hushed tone. As she should, such a statement could be considered treason.

The boy, Kamaru, grudgingly says, “We need your help to get rid of it.”

If Shikano’s hunch for what the something–or, rather, who the someone–is, then he will be more than glad to help.

* * *

**_but it actually went like this:_ **

Shikano wakes up in a very comfortable T&I cell.

He knows it is a T&I cell despite the cozy and casual trappings because he helped Seki Hijiri design it just last month. They’d been discussing the validity of intelligence gathered by harsh interrogation–or, worse, torture–and how such unreliability would lead tactics astray.

They hadn’t done anything with those designs–supposedly there wasn’t enough in the budget to make such renovations–but Shikano knows Seki will hold on to those for when the opportunity arises.

Or, rather, she had held on to those and the opportunity already arose.

Shikano sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Watch my students, Hiruzen says. They won’t be any trouble, Hiruzen says. They’re just learning fuinjutsu, Hiruzen says. They’re only genin, Hiruzen says, what’s the worse they can get up to?”

Either Hiruzen is foolishly optimistic or he has no idea what his students are capable of. Probably both.

Shikano sighs again.

“Are you alright?” a young voice says.

“Just contemplating some treason,” Shikano responds, before reconsidering his words. Obviously he was joking, but sarcasm isn’t exactly–

“I know that feeling,” the voice assures. When Shikano removes his hand from his face he sees that the speaker is as young as he had thought. She’s only a little older than Hiruzen’s students, though her presence in the T&I cell means he can’t underestimate her.

“Is that why you’re the one speaking to me? My treasonous thoughts?” Shikano asks her.

“Not really, although I don’t think your thoughts currently count as treasonous.” The girl shrugs. “I certainly wouldn’t mind if you wanted to talk about how awful the Sandaime and Danzo were, but I’m primarily here for this,” she says and her shadow approaches his before stopping short, a familiar greeting from a fellow Nara.

Ah, yes, that makes more sense.

He nods and completes the connection, his shadow overlapping with hers and, in the way known only to Nara, he understands the weight of her soul.

“What is your name?” she asks, even though her compatriots must have already spoken to Hiruzen’s students and the fact that they brought a fellow Nara to him means they already know.

“Shikano Nara, fifteenth head of the Nara clan,” he answers. Then, “And you?”

Her shadow deepens with something a little sly, a little amused. “Shikako Nara.”

The lack of appellation intrigues him, for all that he doesn’t show it on his face. She senses it anyway.

“My brother is heir, but since we’re twins Dad decided to name us both Shika,” she explains.

They sit in silence for a moment, shadows still connected.

Identity no doubt confirmed, Shikano asks, “What happens now?”

“We’ll reunite you with your team and find temporary housing until we can figure out how to reverse the, I’ll be honest, frankly bizarre seal that sent you here and then you’ll go home,” Shikako informs him simply.

“That’s it?” Shikano asks, skeptically.

“Well, no, but you already knew that.” And because their shadows are still connected, he knows how sorry she feels about what comes next. “In order to preserve the timeline, we’ll have to erase your memory of anything pertinent you learn.”

“I’m the Jounin Commander,” he protests, “I can better protect Konoha with the things I learn here!”

Shikako shakes her head, disconnects their shadows, and stands up. She doesn’t meet his eyes. “You can’t change fate,” she says, before leaving the cell.

That’s the last thing he remembers.

Shikano wakes up, Hiruzen’s students unconscious on the ground around him. They are in the same training ground that they were in before, safe in the heart of Konoha, and yet Shikano knows things have changed.

He stares at the clouds.

Then, after returning the three troublemakers to Hiruzen, Shikano goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [dona wrote a continuation to the "Should Have" universe](https://jacksgreysays.tumblr.com/post/623044856467668992/option-two-continued)


	3. Hail to the Queen (the Uzushio remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous: Hail to the Queen, Shikako, Uzushio remix?
> 
> related to [Hail to the Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6941455/chapters/15830014), aka the series in which Shikako becomes Hokage

**_it could have gone like this:_ **

“Not it!” Tatsuma shouts, such an abrupt and loud interjection to their otherwise calm conversation that Shikako startles.

Hiki and Yose, quick to follow, exchange a glance before putting their index fingers to the tips of their noses, also declaring, “Not it!”

In a bewildering cascade, the other department heads do the same. Some more graceful than others, but no less swift, until at the end of it Shikako is the only one left in the room who hasn’t disavowed… whatever is going on.

Kairyu, the ancient and wizened head of the summoning department, gives Shikako a wide and alarmingly sadistic smile. “Congratulations, Uzukage-sama,” he says.

“What.” Shikako looks around, trying to find the context clues that will make that statement understandable. The other department heads smile back at her with varying levels of glee. They don’t look like Kairyu has said anything bizarre such as declaring her, an outsider, Uzukage. “What, no.”

They continue to smile at her, some of them going so far as to similarly congratulate her for becoming Uzukage.

“Nooooooo,” she says, drawing the word out. “No, this can’t be how–no, this doesn’t make any…” Shikako looks down at the sheaf of papers in front of her, the reports from each of the heads summarizing their respective departments’ latest research and achievements.

In the past few years since Shikako has settled in this world–and, more specifically, in Uzushio–she’s had to adjust to their way of life. The society built around innovation and creativity, the common and almost casual use of fuinjutsu to break and remake reality was easy. Less so was their sense of humor. 

The village has accepted her with aplomb, generous and encompassing, and Shikako thinks if she cannot go home, then this is a satisfactory second place. She could maybe do with a little less pranking, but that’s apparently just how communication and affection is done in Uzu culture.

Incredulous, she looks back up at them. “This can’t possibly be how you choose the Uzukage.”

Kairyu strokes his chin; despite his age, his beard still has hints of red in it, a sign of the famous Uzumaki vitality. “It used to follow a bloodline and it was a life term sort of thing.”

Shikako nods, because that at least makes sense; that’s how Sand and Stone do it, at least.

“But we decided that wasn’t fair…” he continues, and Shikako nods at that, too. Monarchies aren’t known for being a government of equal and just representation.

“… because what if they wanted to go into academia and were forced instead into leadership? For life? Can you imagine the inventions trapped and forever denied to us because they were busy with diplomacy or war? Just imagine the advancements we could have lost! So we decided a five year term was long enough for stability, but short enough that the Uzukage wouldn’t stagnate too much in their chosen field.”

Shikako does not nod at this. This is a bonkers way to choose a leader. Then again, Uzushio is weird enough that this might not actually be a joke. “… and the deciding process?”

Hiki and Yose pat her shoulders in a commiserating manner. “The mathematics department thanks you for your service, Uzukage-sama,” Hiki says.

“The music department is a wretched hive of near constant activity,” Yose adds, fondly disparaging her own department. “I can’t even imagine handing it over to my deputy for five whole years just to run the village.”

Tatsuma shakes his head solemnly, “I’m sure you’ll be faster next time, Uzukage-sama.”

* * *

**_it should have gone like this:_ **

Later, when she and Naruto are trying to figure out how it all happened, the two of them in the neutral–or, perhaps more accurately, mutually claimed–territory of Land of Wave it will be Tsunami who provides an explanation.

“It’s an Oath of the Ocean,” she says simply, a gentle smile on her face. Shikako wonders if she feels at all weird that the Hokage and Uzukage use her house as a meeting spot or if she just sees them both as the twelve year olds she met all those years ago.

Naruto crinkles his nose in confusion while Shikako wracks her brain desperately for any memory of that phrase. Nothing is coming up, but she’s only been Uzukage for a few months and there have been a lot of higher priority matters to deal with. They look at her beseechingly and her cheek dimples with amusement: that’s a point for the twelve year olds.

Tsunami joins them at her dining table and two of the most powerful people in the Elemental Nations eagerly defer to her. “It’s something my mother used to tell me stories of when I was a little girl,” she begins while Shikako pours her tea, the steam of it wafting up and adding to the ambiance. “Daring tales of adventure and camaraderie, the power of loyalty and devotion and promises…" 

While entertaining, the stories for the most part followed a similar train of heroism, sacrifice, and the sort of happily ever afters that could only exist in a shinobi society. They did involve two or more heroes, at least, which somewhat matched their current situation, but otherwise the tales were so disparate that Shikako couldn’t see the common thread.

”… I believe she said that ninja of the Hidden Leaf had a similar thing–something to do with fire, I think?“ Tsunami concluded, taking a sip of her tea.

"The Will of Fire?” Naruto asks, glancing from Tsunami to Shikako in confirmation.

“Hm, yes, that sounds like it,” Tsunami says. “But it was so long ago.”

Shikako hums, considering. The Will of Fire is an actual phenomenon, even if it’s been largely couched in PR terms that obfuscate the science behind it. The other villages have their own sort of strange skills–like the Hero’s Water of Hidden Waterfall or the Desert Scions of Sand–so perhaps that’s what the Oath of the Ocean is as well.

Although how it can do so much with so little is baffling:

Naruto needed to be present at the Chuunin Exams in Cloud as Hokage. Jokingly, he had said to Shikako, “Look after my village while I’m gone.”

Shikako had responded with a fond roll of her eyes, “Your home is my home.”

And when a gaggle of administrative nin carrying a ludicrous number of scrolls amongst them entered his office, Naruto grinned slyly. “And my people, your people,” he said, clapping a hand on her shoulder before fleeing like the absolute coward any Hokage becomes when faced with paperwork.

That should have been it. 

Except a few days into her temporary regency, news came in of a grand fleet of ships that had made landfall in the ruins of Uzushio. And another few days after that, a pair of messengers with bright red hair introduced themselves as representatives of the Uzu Flotilla seeking their Uzukage.

Gamely, Shikako explained that their, well, princess was in another castle so to speak. And, also, already Hokage.

“The name Naruto Uzumaki is a good Uzukage name,” one of the messengers, Nagare, says with a shrug.

“Very traditional,” the other messenger, Mancho, pipes in agreement. “Also, very famous!”

“And that is why the elders considered bringing the flotilla back earlier. We heard tell of him even on our journey,” Nagare continues, “But he’s not our Uzukage.”

Nodding, Mancho adds, “We’d know.”

Desperately trying to hide her confusion, Shikako nods in return.

“We didn’t sense them until, what, six maybe seven days ago?” Nagare asks, turning to Mancho.

“Eight, I think. Although those first few days there was a lot of partying so my count might be wrong, too.”

Shikako deliberately does not think of the number of days since Naruto left Konoha. “So do you need help finding whoever is your new Uzukage?” she asks, hopefully.

Nagare and Mancho turn to her, both of them bemused. “Nooooo,” Mancho says slowly.

Nagare answers, “We’ve already found her.”

* * *

**_but it actually went like this:_ **

When everything is over, the world in relative peace, Shikako requests herself for a mission. A training trip, she’d assured everyone, much like the one she took to the Fire Temple all those years ago.

Except this time it would be to the ruins of Uzushio.

The Hokage doesn’t tell her no. This is the first thing she’s wanted that had nothing to do with preventing the end of the world. And so she goes.

Nothing much happens on that first trip. It’s largely exploring the area, carefully mapping out or weatherproofing the places she finds. Some buildings are relatively well preserved enough that she knows she can leave it for another time, others are so reduced to rubble that she can only mark the location and hope if anything is left there to salvage it will survive a while longer.

Before too long, her month is up and she goes back to Konoha vowing to return.

Progress is slow going, really. The second, third, and fourth trips are much the same. At this point her friends consider it more a personal vacation than sabbatical, akin to taking time off to go camping and enjoying the ocean air. They’re not entirely wrong, but there is an unshakeable, lingering air of solemnity through it all.

The fifth trip she makes a D-rank so she can bring her students along without things going to hell in a hand basket. Thankfully, it works. And while there still isn’t much in the way of fuinjutsu discoveries, it is a good trip.

The following trips, Shikako and her team clear and collect more and more to the point where now they have to spend more time collating and archiving than continuing their explorations. When she brings this up at a kunochi club meeting, Shiho’s eyes brighten.

“And there’s no danger?” Shiho asks, eager but still anxious.

“There’s no danger,” Shikako assures. “But even if there was, I will handle it. Everyone is under my protection.” Shikako herself is still uneasy saying such things, but if it brings comfort to others, she’ll let them use her reputation as a shield. 

With a gaggle of intel nin sorting through their findings, Shikako and her team are freed up again to explore. More progress is made in that trip than before, and while nothing particularly inspiring is found there are some techniques which improve existing practices or tweak them enough to cause vigorous discussion when Shikako returns to the RnD with notes.

It continues like this for a while, a fairly small operation.

Shikako has no idea how Kankurou finds out about it.

“I’m just going where the Kazekage sends me,” Kankurou says, his own gaggle of intel nin clustered behind him. “It’s not like your movements are exactly secret, and the old nags in Suna are making noises about Leaf expanding their territory.”

Before she can protest, he continues, “I know that’s not what it is, Gaara knows that’s not what it is, but we still have to do something to keep them quiet. So hey, here’s some of our nerds if you want to put them to work. That one in particular is good with reversing the effects of erosion.” Kankurou points to one of the Sand nin who meeps and ducks his head. “They’re your responsibility now. Have fun.”

“And what are you going to do?” Shikako asks, eying him skeptically.

“Whatever I want? There’s sand and there’s sun. So it’s kind of like home, except no one is bugging me to do anything,” he answers.

Famous last words. Shikako does put him to work, using the puppets to go into areas where it’s not structurally sound enough for humans. Although that has more to do with the fact that after three days of doing nothing he keeps distracting her genin out of boredom that, really, he was asking for it.

They discover so much.

The ball is rolling by that point. Other villages send representatives of their own, mostly researchers with one or two guards but even those guards join in the efforts. Soon the villages collectively decide to build an international outpost there to be maintained and staffed throughout the year. When her team are promoted to chuunin, Shikako spends more of her time supervising the outpost than in Konoha, though they are frequent visitors and researchers as well.

It’s not the same, she knows. It’s not a whole village thriving and growing, but it’s people eager to learn and discover and create for the sake of knowledge and that, Shikako thinks, is close enough in spirit than what Uzushio has had for a long, long time.

And when she walks the land, she can feel that lingering air of solemnity has finally been lifted and replaced with something new.


	4. Counterclockwise, things you said after it was over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous: Could Should Actually + Things you Said 22?
> 
> related to [Counterclockwise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365782/chapters/25442715)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22) things you said after it was over

**_it could have gone like this:_ **

“Imagine the glory,” Joy exclaims in a breathy sort of voice as if in awe of the very idea. She slings an arm around Leanne’s shoulders, drawing her close, comfortable and warm. The couch they’re on could easily fit four, but the two of them are squished up against one arm so that the boys and even Alvin in his massive wolf form could fit, too.

“We wouldn’t be able to tell anyone,” Leanne argues even as she leans in, matching Joy’s volume.

“The riches?” Joy tries again, grinning, more playful than earnest.

“Exactly how would we profit off this plan?” Leanne asks in return.

Thwarted, Joy goes for a different tactic. “Imagine… the drama,” she says, leaning even closer, conspiratorially.

Leanne hums, considering. When the lack of disagreement becomes more and more apparent, time stretching wider, Joy’s grin does the same. She swings her other arm around Leanne, squeezing, jostling, trying to bodily contain the happiness of the moment before nuzzling their faces together. Not quite a kiss, Joy’s bared teeth pressed to the skin of Leanne’s cheek, but not so far off.

Shrieking with laughter, Leanne doesn’t push her away. “That’s not fair! You know my weakness!”

“Of course,” Joy says, words trapped between them, “I don’t need to be fair, I just need you to say yes.”

And Leanne, settling into her hold, can do nothing but nod and say yes.

…

Over two decades later, a fifteen year old Leanne follows the rest of her classmates through the art gallery, tired eyes glancing over the displays but not really taking them in. Yesterday was rough–school, training, a newly hatched cluster of giant sea serpents by the docks while trying not to lose too much face in front of her teammates–and she had been grateful for upcoming the field trip though now she regrets not being able to appreciate the art.

She finds a seat and takes it, her legs almost buckling in relief, and stares blindly forward.

“Do you like it?” someone asks next to her. Leanne, surprised but too exhausted to startle, turns to the voice. An older woman, maybe in her forties, brown hair tied back into a bun, sharp clothes. Maybe a staff member of the art gallery? They didn’t have a tour guide, did they?

“I’m sorry,” Leanne says, reflexively.

A sad sort of smile graces the woman’s face, she shakes her head slightly. “Do you like it?” she repeats, gesturing to the painting on the wall in front of them. The one that Leanne had stared at but hadn’t really seen. A little ashamed, she focuses.

It’s a closeup of two hands, different skin tones and shapes, their fingers intertwined. There are matching rings, softly glinting in the light. Everything about the painting is soft, dreamy, more memory and imagination than photorealism.

Not the most amazing picture, Leanne thinks, but she can certainly see why it would be compelling. “Yes,” she answers, finally, simply, though she doesn’t know why it matters.

The woman’s small smile twitches into something bigger, but no less sad.

Not that it was up for argument, but it’s obvious that Leanne’s not a very good hero: she doesn’t know how to make things better. So she fidgets awkwardly instead.

Now the woman’s smile turns into something amused. “I’m glad you like it. It’s my favorite,” she says before getting to her feet. She reaches a hand toward Leanne, as if to pat her on the shoulder, but pulls back.

“Take care of yourself, Leanne,” she says, before walking away, disappearing into the labyrinth of the art gallery.

And because Leanne is not a very good hero, it takes her a few hours to realize that they never exchanged introductions. How did she know her name?

* * *

**_it should have gone like this:_ **

“She’s a liability,” Tetsuki says, scowling at the doctor.

They are in the observation room of the testing chambers, a wide near-indestructible room where Doctor Kaiza’s clients can use their meta-human abilities without fear of collateral damage.

Or where would-be vigilantes can train without the public catching on. Not that Henry particularly needs it. He is, despite all the media speculation, entirely baseline human. Most of Starling’s tricks are gadgets and whatever he learned from his mentor Firefly.

But it’s good to see what his potential teammates are capable of, and so here he is:

Caleb he knows the best, as much raised in the lifestyle as Henry had been. More so, maybe, practically born into it. Zenith, son of Apex.

Tetsuki he’s met before, Doctor Kaiza’s… niece? Maybe? The actual connection is vague. But he’s seen some of the reports of her prior activities and her abilities. Electric manipulation, martial arts training, and a fierce protectiveness for all that she isn’t the nicest of people.

Hari he only knows by word of mouth, the lone lion shapeshifter amongst a pack of wolves. Goldenheart, recommended by former hero Silverfang.

Right now, Hari is in lion form, a huge shape easily loping around in the testing chambers, big playful circles around the other figure below. At least, Henry is pretty sure it’s playful. Although, considering the nervous posture of Goldenheart’s chosen playmate, perhaps she doesn’t understand the same.

Leanne Peridot. A civilian as of two weeks ago. Where and how Doctor Kaiza found her is a mystery. Why the doctor thought she’d make a good addition to the team is an even bigger mystery.

No martial arts training, no particular talent with any weapons, practically baseline human. The only thing that makes her stand out is that strange pocket watch and the one minute of time stopping it gives her, but if she can’t do anything with that one minute then it’s all just a waste. She’s back to being a normal civilian out on the field.

“Tetsuki’s right,” Henry says, watching as Goldenheart bats a huge paw gently at Leanne, watches the green-haired girl fall to the ground, unable to brace herself against even an expected, friendly push. “She’s a liability.”

He doesn’t say it to be mean, he says it to save lives. If she’s just another civilian they have to keep an eye out for on the field, then they may as well tie a weight to themselves. They need teammates who can keep up, who can be trusted to handle themselves and more. 

“Then help her,” Doctor Kaiza says, “Train her. Give her the tools she needs to survive. The tools all of you had since you were children.” Her voice is dispassionate, but her words give her away. “She is behind, yes, but the rest of you have a head start. She has the potential, help her access it.”

“Why?” Caleb asks and while Tetsuki lights up in triumph, the doctor turns to him with a look of disappointment on her face. Henry also turns to look at him, confused. For all that Caleb is practically a living tank, he’s usually the more diplomatic of them.

“I mean,” he continues, “Why her? Why do you care? We’re a functional enough team wth just the four of us. We don’t need a fifth.”

“Certainly not a fifth we need to bring up to our level,” Tetsuki adds snidely.

The doctor turns back to the observation window, where Leanne has gotten back to her feet and begun to hesitantly run her hands through Hari’s fur. The sound doesn’t exactly travel, but from the satisfied closed eyes, Henry thinks perhaps there might be purring.

“Heroism,” Doctor Kaiza says, followed by a silence long and drawn out. “It’s not about being good at fighting,” she says, “it’s about saving people.

"And sometimes even the best need help.”

…

When Leanne disappears, Henry investigates. Of course he does. That’s his teammate. For all that she had a rocky beginning, Leanne proved herself as a hero and Henry isn’t disloyal.

Tetsuki, ever the pessimist, thinks she ran. Finally giving in to Bastian, the absolute bastard, and his constant attempts to sway her to his cause. Whatever that cause may be. He’s pretty sure Tetsuki only thinks that because two of Bastian’s lieutenants are former classmates of hers, supervillains brewing right under her nose.

Caleb, more emotionally in tune, has been the contact for the Peridot family. Collaborating with them on their search, if she may have said anythign to them, left any hints or clues behind.

Unsurprisingly, Doctor Kaiza is calm.

Surprisingly, so is Hari.

“Why aren’t you worried? What do you know?” Henry asks, finally, after all avenues of tracking have been exhausted. It would be more intimidating if he didn’t have dark bags under his eyes, if Hari weren’t capable of turning into a massive lion in the blink of an eye.

“I am worried,” Hari says, “but it won’t help her.” Then the shapeshifter shrugs, “And I know the same as you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hm,” Hari eyes drift away from his, “You remember the codename she came up with last year? Before you, Caleb, and Tetsuki shot it down.”

Henry frowns. “What about it?” He remembers, of course. Leanne had wanted to be called Anachron. Thematically, it made sense, and it was witty enough. But it was a name that had already been used. 

“Leanne isn’t like us. She didn’t grow up hearing stories about heroes, from heroes. The only context she had for names was us.”

“So?”

Hari sighs, meets Henry’s eyes, and says, “She was, is, Anachron. You shouldn’t be looking for where she is. You should be looking for when.”

* * *

**_but it actually went like this:_ **

“They sent me through time and cursed me with immortality on top of that, so I’d appreciate it if you would bring me home, time witch.” Bastian, the absolute bastard, says across the table from Leanne. A beautiful tea service is set up, delicate finger foods and porcelain, shining silverware gleaming against a rich tablecloth. It is a mockery; as Bastian sips from his teacup, Leanne struggles against the ties keeping her bound to the chair.

“I’m not a time witch,” Leanne says, exasperated. At him and herself. Him because this is not the first, or second, or even third time this has happened. Herself because… well… this is not the first, second, or event third time this has happened. A part of her is glad her team is on the way to get her out of this. A far larger, more frustrated part of her hates that she needs her team to get her out of this yet again.

“Sorcerer, warlock, wizard, I don’t care what terms you people use nowadays. Time magic, you use it, therefore you are a time witch.” Bastian waves away her words, equally dismissive in his tone. He, it seems, is as bored of this conversation as she is.

“I don’t use time magic,” Leanne protests, because even if just sends them down the same patterns, she doesn’t know what else to do but be honest.

“Not well, certainly,” Bastian agrees, sort of, “but time witches were rare even in my kingdom. Here, you’re apparently the only one, so you’ll have to do.”

Leanne, insulted and irritated, sighs.

“Is this a problem of payment? Because if its a reward you need, I can cover that. What do you want, money? Fame? Power?” Bastian lists out, resting his chin on one hand, a king in repose.

Leanne shakes her head.

“Something more than that, hm? Or a combination of the three?” Bastian meets her eyes and smirks, a sharp and hungry thing. “I’ll make you my queen, time witch. Bring me home and the world could be yours.”

Leanne just shakes her head again.

Annoyed, Bastian’s face turns into a thunderous scowl. He stands, slamming his hand on the table, the tea set rattling with the force of it.

“You will not refuse me again, time witch,” he says, low with rage and barely contained violence.

Having witnessed the scope of his abilities, it is a miracle Leanne’s voice doesn’t shake when she responds, “Then stop asking.”

A reverberating boom sounds, the tea set once more rattling, and Leanne resist the urge to close her eyes in relief. Her team is here to rescue her, but she refuses to take her eyes off Bastian.

He bares his teeth, displeased at her, the situation, but quickly composes himself. “Until next time,” he says, and almost laughs at his own play on words.

…

The restraints they’ve put on her are tight, though thankfully not painful, the chair is far from comfortable, she has a bit of a headache, and the interrogation room is a little cold: it’s not the best set of circumstances she’s ever found herself in, but they’re certainly not the worst.

When the grumpy officer who brought her here returns, he finds her lightly dozing, trying to catch up on the years and years of sleep debt she’s accrued. It’s not likely to succeed but, again, she’s been in worse places.

“Leanne Peridot?” the officer says. It’s not really a question, they took her a picture, her fingerprints, and DNA. They should know who she is.

“Yep.”

“Also known as Anachron?”

“Sure.”

“Also known as the Time Witch?”

“Ye–no, actually,” Leanne says, catching herself, “I do not claim that one.”

Officer Grumpyface looks up at her, “You don’t?”

“No,” she says, “Nobody calls me that.” Or, at least, not in a way that would make it into her official file.

Grumpyface shrugs, uncaring. “You’ve done quite a bit of unauthorized time traveling, haven’t you?”

Leanne can feel her brow furrow, “Who has authority over time travel?”

Grumpyface looks behind him at the observation window before turning back to her. He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, the door to the interrogation room opens, a man in a similar, if far fancier and impressive, uniform to Officer Grumpyface enters the room. Grumpyface stands up at attention, saluting the newcomer.

It’s an older face than the one she remembers. No more false boyish sweetness, but a chiseled sort of handsomeness instead. There are a few age lines, some grey in his hair. But considering it’s several centuries since they last spoke, Bastian, the absolute bastard, has barely changed.

She sighs, resigned. “Bastian.”

“Hello, Time Witch.”


	5. Shikako in BnHA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous: Could/should/did prompt Shikako in bnha?
> 
> the "actually happened" section is set in [built on a hill (light the fire)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22110379/chapters/52771351)

**_it could have gone like this:_ **

“How does your quirk work?” the girl at the bar asks. She’s far too young to be at a bar, but no one can make her leave.

… which is alarming considering this is also the headquarters for the League of Villains and she very much is not part of said league.

Not that Kurogiri isn’t trying to fix that. “If you join us, I’ll tell you,” he says mildly, sliding a drink over to her. Non-alcoholic, of course.

“Hm, I’d rather not,” she responds equally mild, casual as she drinks the beverage, unafraid.

Kurogiri shrugs and continues his work. Just because he’s trying to recruit her, doesn’t mean he’s going to be pushy about it. And anyway, he’ll just ask her again tomorrow, same as yesterday and the day before and the day before that.

“Were you able to find your… Gelel, was it?” he asks conversationally. He’s considering cooking something, a proper meal and not just snack food, something high in nutrition.

The girl sighs, staring off forlornly into the distance. After a moment of silence, she says quietly, “No.”

Maybe a stew? Something filling and comforting?

“I… I don’t think I’ll meet Gelel again.”

Frazzled for some reason, Kurogiri slides an entire jar of cherries to her.

She looks up at him confused before opening it and sliding both the jar and the lid back.

He blinks and is grateful that his expressions are near impossible to parse. “So what are your plans now?” Kurogiri asks, hoping that is less of a land mine.

The girl shrugs, fiddles with the end of her braid, “I’m not entirely sure. I wasn’t really planning on being here long term.”

He looks around, a quick glance upstairs, assessing, “Do you have a place to stay?”

She shoots him a wry smile, “I’m still not joining your league.”

“It’s not my league,” he corrects her.

She rolls her eyes. “The league you are a part of,” she amends.

Kurogiri shrugs, acquiesces. He considers what living necessities a normal person who isn’t an undead entity made of fog and shadows might have. “Do you have anyone who could help? Friends? Family?”

At this, the girl’s expression shutters again, and Kurogiri curses himself internally. After another silent moment of contemplation, she meets his eyes. Her face as inscrutable as his lack of one.

“Something like that.”

* * *

**_it should have gone like this:_ **

It’s different this time, Shikako thinks, wider and far more unpredictable. Impossibly overwhelming. At least there is the semblance of morality–good versus evil, heroes against villains–but that doesn’t really hide the truth of it:

Once more, Shikako finds herself born into a world of child soldiers.

Damn it.

But she thinks she can keep herself out of it. Her family aren’t heroes, though they do make devices and gadgets that help heroes with their jobs. There isn’t an oncoming apocalyptic disaster on the horizon–or, at least, not that she knows of. She can live her life in relative peace, stay out of the thick of things. She wants to thrive in this world of powers without prophecies, relearn to love invention without the desperation that had pushed her before.

Although if she happens to create things that are helpful to heroes that’s not really getting herself involved, that’s just contributing to society and also following in her new parents’ footsteps. And everyone knows that UA’s Support Department is the best in the country, it only makes sense to apply for that school.

And, yes, she may have gone a little over the top during the test but, really, they were robots and where else would she have the opportunity to test her limits (or lack thereof) without fear of bystander casualties? And, what, was she not supposed to help out her fellow test takers when they needed it? That’s just common decency.

Honestly, she has no idea how she ended up in the Hero Department’s Class 1-A.

She also does not understand why Principle Nezu won’t let her transfer into the Support Department–obviously, she’ll do the most good there. She has a portfolio to prove it!

… Although that just backfires on her because instead of getting transferred, she just gets an additional period added to the end of her daily schedule where she and Mei Hatsume–who maybe lives in the Development Studio–unintentionally compete for most volatile inventions under the exhausted supervision of Power Loader. And she still has to deal with the even more volatile personalities in the Hero class with Aizawa-sensei’s frankly bizarre teaching style.

If she weren’t who she was–if she didn’t remember–she probably wouldn’t be able to balance things as well as she does. Although she doesn’t really connect with her classmates as much as she probably should, hasn’t really fallen into a group the same way others have. The occasional exchanges she has with Dark Shadow has made them friends of a sort, she thinks, though maybe not. Except for minor conversations over homework or the weather, she doesn’t really talk to anyone in Class 1-A.

Of course, this changes after they are attacked in the USJ. Asui helps her out in the Flood Zone when Shikako is taken by surprise–teleported into water, not her best moment–and together with Midoriya they regroup with some of their other classmates only to find Aizawa-sensei in the middle of being brutally murdered.

And something within her snaps:

Because this isn’t her home and these aren’t her teammates and she doesn’t really want to be a Hero, not really, but… Rule Number One.

Maybe its not so different after all.

* * *

**_but it actually went like this:_ **

When the students of UA move into the newly built Heights Alliance en masse, each class finds a fun addition to their ranks.

“Three in your case,” the girl with the braid says to the collective curiosity of Class 1-A. “Apparently your class is… special,” she says it with an almost diplomatic smile, but from the unimpressed expressions on her compatriots’ faces it’s not exactly a compliment.

Iida, ever the dutiful class representative, is the first to respond. “Isn’t it too late in the year for you to transfer to UA? And while the dorms are capable of housing additional students, I don’t believe our classroom will be able to do the same. Though that is not to say that you are unwelcome, rather, that we would not want you to feel unaccommodated.”

The other girl, the one with purple hair and a scowl, scoffs, “You’ve already met us, we’re Agents. We’re not joining your class. Why would we want to be Hero students?” With her expression and crossed arms, she could not convey more disgust with the very idea if she had spat on the floor.

Some of class bristle at the insult, Bakugou audibly snarls, but when the last Agent, a boy with black hair, slants a disapproving glance in her direction she looks away, chastised.

Quick to clarify, the first Agent says, “We’ll be living with you in the dorms, but we’ll continue our educations separately. For you, UA has become a boarding school. For us, we’ll commute to our respective schools. But thank you for your concern." 

"But if you’re not students, then why are you here?” asks Kaminari, practically emanating confusion.

The male Agent, with a somehow even more disapproving expression, sighs. “Your teacher should have been the one to tell you.”

“Your principle, along with building the Heights Alliance, has acquired the services of our Agency as another deterrent to Villains,” explains the friendly Agent. “Most of the buildings have only Agent assigned, but given your class history you get the three of us. I’m Agent Bat,” she introduces herself with an almost awkward little wave.

“Agent Hawk,” says the boy, nodding in greeting.

The purple haired girl, arms still crossed, rolls her eyes, “Possum.”

“Possum and I will be on the second floor, Hawk will be on the fourth floor. If you have any information or suspicians of Villain incursions and activities you can come to any of us. We also have a trained medic in 1-B’s dorm, Agent Slug, she’ll probably introduce herself later today. Otherwise you can just pretend like we’re not here,” Agent Bat says.

“So you’re just going to be… watching us?” asks Ashido.

Agent Bat shakes her head. “No, no, just consider us as neighbors. When it comes to Villains, your concerns are our concerns.”

His already minimal patience worn thin, Bakugou finally explodes, “We don’t need any fucking babysitters!”

While most of his classmates wouldn’t phrase it the same, the sentiment is shared amongst them. They’ve survived so much already–random interlopers trying to take control just grates on them.

“Well it’s not your choice, now is it?” Agent Possum shoots back, ready and raring to match Bakugou’s irritation with her own. “We’re Agents and this is our mission. If you want to be pissy about it, it doesn’t matter. Although if you’re going to act like a brat, no wonder your principle thinks you need babysitters.”

“We’re not actually your babysitters,” Agent Hawk clarifies, tone apathetic. “We’re not here to protect you.”

“The dorms and your sensei are your security. We’re not your bodyguards.” Agent Bat continues with an almost sheepish shrug that fails to mitigate the coldness of her words, “You’re our bait.”


	6. First Meeting in Friendship Is A (Mutual) Con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cadalie: Could/Should/Did- team seven meeting in modern au
> 
> related to [Friendship Is A (Mutual) Con](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6945079/chapters/19668433)

**it could have gone like this:**

Shikako scans the crowd with a furrowed brow, seeking without finding. She’s not frowning just yet, but she looks close to it, and that’s not exactly a good look for a party with as many important people as this.

“What’s wrong?” Ino asks her in a low murmur and hidden behind a perfect smile because she, at least, knows the importance of maintaining appearances.

“I’m not sure,” Shikako admits, she goes to pull on her braid–her go to for fidgeting–only to remember that her hair has been put in a fancier up do. She settles for interlacing her fingers in a brief moment of self comfort before she pulls them apart.

“Relax, Shikako,” Ino assures her. She pulls two flutes of bubbly off a tray carried by a waiter–standard uniform barely making up for his wild blonde hair–and hands one over to Shikako. “This party is for you.”

At this, Shikako frowns, but automatically takes a drink. “No, it’s for my security system. Which defeats the purpose of making a security system or at the very least makes whatever it’s protecting a lot less secure.” After all, the best way to keep something safe from thieves is if nobody knows it even exists. Having a party celebrating a security system is practically the same thing as having neon signs pointing at a safe saying ‘Valuables In Here!’

Not to mention giving all these random people access? Anyone could sneak in during this event and make an attempt.

Ino rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so paranoid, Shikako. You should be networking now. If these people are wealthy enough to be invited, you know they’re wealthy enough to have secrets that need to be protected.”

“And I’m the one who should be protecting those secrets?” Shikako asks dryly even as her eyes scan and scan and scan the crowd. She doesn’t even know what she’s looking for, who she’s looking for, just that she feels like something is wrong.

“Or their wealth, at least,” Ino says, before her eyes catch on a vaguely familiar figure. “Ooh, looks like the Uchiha family could send someone after all. If you’ll excuse me,” she adds before abandoning Shikako for a beautiful boy.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened so Shikako stays put, awkwardly drinking the champagne, certain something will happen but not what or how.

* * *

**it should have gone like this:**

Usually, Sasuke tries not to bring his family into his… occupation.

Inferiority complex aside, it’s not exactly difficult. His parents are absurdly proud of Itachi, one of the world’s top medical diagnosticians, for all that it doesn’t relate directly to taking over running the Uchiha’s various businesses and ventures. They weren’t exactly pleased when Sasuke ran off to join the military, but their closed mouth smiles in public meant he could get away with it.

And in the after, when he waves off their inquiries with words like 'crisis consultant’ and 'NDA’ and 'international incidents’, they continued their closed mouth smiles and nodded and looked away.

So for the most part, yes, Sasuke keeps his family away from the realities of his job. But that doesn’t mean the family name isn’t occasionally useful for said job.

Getting into an exclusive party for the elite of the city at the last second being one such convenient occasion.

Or, at least, it would be convenient if it weren’t for the–what feels like–hundreds of random people swarming him. Someone or other keeps asking him questions, people laughing no matter how bland his answers, and a drink somehow manages to find its way into his hands no matter how quickly he tries to discretely get rid of it without actually drinking it. Some scruffy asshole of a waiter, glee sparkling in his blue eyes, hands an entire tray of drinks over to the eager mob thus prolonging Sasuke’s suffering.

By the time he extricates himself–without any violence, otherwise it would have gone much faster–a woman in a green dress is fiddling with her phone in front of the vault’s access panel. Sasuke weighs the pros and cons of engaging her in conversation. Flirting might get her to do what he wants, but it may also give her the wrong idea and backfire on him horribly. Intimidation would probably be more effective, but who knows how important she might be? It’s why, yet again, his usual method of controlled violence won’t work here.

He approaches her, mouth open to say–

The lights go out.

* * *

**but it actually went like this:**

By the time Naruto manages to ditch the tray of champagne flutes and the basic uniform of the caterers staff that got him into this fancy shindig, he’s almost seven whole minutes behind on getting into the vault.

No problem, he’ll wing it.

He slips into the vents easily, line dropping him from the party floor all the way down to the building’s foundations. There’s something weird about the building, he could sense it even when he was doing recon last week, the dimensions of the hallways and rooms just slightly off.

The vault isn’t a vault. Or, at least, it isn’t just a vault. 

Popping out of one ventilation system, he scrambles over to the other–the one that isn’t connected to the rest of the building. The one that leads to the bunker which the vault doubles as.

This ventilation shaft is a little harder to maneuver–motion sensors every four feet, how paranoid–but Naruto’s not the best at what he does by giving up!

The lights going out don’t really stop him, there’s only one direction he can go at this point, but as he unscrews the grate into the bunker they flash back on, blinding him for a moment.

It’s enough to distract him, enough to delay him–he’s a little too slow to shuffle backwards into the vent. He’s not the only one in the bunker-vault and the lady in green meets his eyes with a confused almost smile on her face. Not so much of a set back, maybe.

The sudden arm reaching in, grabbing him by the harness, and bodily yanking him out? That’s the bigger problem.

“You,” says the rich asshole that Naruto turned into his distraction.

“Me,” Naruto says back, grin wide and obnoxious.

“We,” the lady in green cuts in, emphasizing the word, “Are all in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Naruto asks, unfortunately at the same time as the rich asshole who still has an iron grip on his climbing harness. He is a master escape artist, but the climbing harness is designed to stay on no matter what extreme acrobatics he puts it through.

“Someone else got here before we did.”

* * *

**and what happened elsewhere:**

Kakashi’s grin is hidden, but it shows in his eye. “Amateurs,” he says, fond, watching the feed of the three kids, “How adorable.”


	7. Whole New World: Shikamaru in Stars Also Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donapoetrypassion: Stars Also Dream, Shikamaru, Whole New World
> 
> related to [Stars Also Dream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7794919/chapters/17782258)

**it could have gone like this:**

Team Ten is returning home from a critical, but not dangerous, C-rank when Ino utters, “Huh,” in a tone that conveys curiosity but not concern.

Shikamaru calls them to a stop, the three of them pausing on their respective tree branches, so they can discuss the matter. Unlike his sister, he doesn’t go running towards random mysteries without assessing the situation.

“It’s not bad,” Ino says, which is a little bit cause for alarm, “But Yoshino-oba, Santa-nii, and… Ibiki-taicho are all that way.” She points, the direction very much not towards Konoha where Shikamaru, up until five seconds ago, would have bet money his mum would be.

“Are they fighting anyone?” Chouji asks, reorienting himself in the new direction. Ino would have mentioned if they were, but Akimichi are protectors. To have a member of any of their clans away from home when they aren’t normally is, frankly, bizarre.

“No,” says Ino, even as the three of them move in that direction, “I think maybe Yoshino-oba is using earth jutsu? But there’s no other signatures in that direction and Santa-nii doesn’t feel like he’s in combat either.”

It doesn’t take long for Shikamaru to figure out– “The Kinokawa farm,” he explains to his teammates. It’s technically his mum’s, not Nara property, so he doesn’t know too much about it, but he was pretty sure nobody’s gone out there in years. Except that, too, is apparently wrong.

They’re not exactly sneaking, but when Yamanaka Santa senses them–a little too late, his range probably smaller than Ino’s–he looks surprised. Ibiki-taicho, alerted to their presence, turns to their approach and smirks. Which is, in and of itself, a disconcerting sight…

But not as much as his mum, stance firm and expression hard as she uses a jutsu to unearth a metal ship? Small but foreign and incomprehensible. Worse, still, she seems to be familiar with its function, pressing something that opens a door which she climbs into with ease.

It’s as she exits, a strange metal tube in hand, that Mum meets his eyes. Her expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart,” she says, then nothing at all.

That’s fine, Shikamaru doesn’t know what to say either.

* * *

**it should have gone like this:**

Shikamaru says, “I have a bad feeling about this,” and his sister grimaces by reflex.

To be fair, he doesn’t often have bad feelings–or, rather, Bad Feelings–but when he does they’re never wrong. He may not be as strong in the Force as his sister, but this, at least, is one Force gift that he has that she doesn’t.

Mum says that might be for the best. A pared down and useful talent that doesn’t interfere too much with the chakra he inherited from Dad.

Both of them carefully do not mention the prophecies and visions that tear through Shikako’s mind, prompting nightmares and paranoia and all sorts of trauma before they even got to the Academy. Or the way her body used to suffer as it fluctuated wildly between chakra and the Force before she figured out a way to manually balance the two. Or how, whenever the Force has something big and dangerous planned, it always maneuvers her into the right place at the right time.

Shikako is a being constantly oscillating, luminous then shadowy then back, whatever she or the Force needs at the time. Shikamaru is wholly Nara with a little bit extra.

But that little bit extra is all he needs.

“What do you mean?” Naruto asks, “It’s just a ferret.”

The twins share a look. Yeah, that’s not just a ferret.

Shikamaru knows that the Force is in everything, every tree, every rock, and so every ferret, but either this is a ferret especially strong in the Force or something especially strange is going on. He may not be able to hear it the same was his sister can, but he can sense that much at least.

But bad feeling and heightened caution aside, there’s not much else they can do but keep moving forward.

(That’s the thing about bad feelings. They warn you of danger, but they don’t help you stop it.)

Kyber resonates all around them, the first beyond the one Mum’s lightsaber he’s ever felt, but none of that matters as Shikamaru drags his sister back from the grasping, luminous arms of the Force

* * *

**but it actually went like this:**

It’s not really an accident, per se, but neither could it be described as deliberate.

Shikamaru is watching over Eerin while Mum goes to her weekly shopping trip with Ibiki-taicho to the farmer’s market–which is still, somehow, brain breaking to him even though they’ve been friends and have done so for years before Shikamaru was born–when it happens:

Eerin, dearest, sweet baby brother, raises both of his pudgy arms towards his favorite plush toy across the room.

Shikamaru rolls his eyes but stands up to go retrieve it.

Before he can take a single step, it flies across the room and smacks him in the face. Thankfully, as it bounces gently off his face, he has the wherewithal to catch it before it lands on the ground.

Eerin, dearest, sweet baby brother, laughs.

Shikamaru looks between his dearest, sweet baby brother, the plush toy in his hands, and back, confused.

Another babbling laugh from Eerin, still reaching for the toy, has it floating the rest of the way out of Shikamaru’s hands and into Eerin’s arms.

Shikamaru stares as his dearest, sweet baby brother plays with the plush toy, absolutely bewildered.

This is how Mum finds him, fifteen minutes later.


End file.
